


the soft with the rough

by alrightginger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Female Harry Potter, Hogwarts, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29515023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alrightginger/pseuds/alrightginger
Summary: “Hmm,” he hums. His face relaxes and his Fred mask falls off easily. He can never seem to wear it around her for too long. “How is it that you can tell us apart so easily?”Why her?Why a girl he’s known for a handful of years and no one else?What makes her want to tell them apart? To spot the ways that make them different and not the same?“You’re so soft, George Weasley,” she says, her tone matching her words. “No one else may be able to see it, but I do.”
Relationships: Harry Potter/George Weasley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 177





	the soft with the rough

**Author's Note:**

> based on the prompt: well, this is awkward 
> 
> (and a little bit of rewatching Ouran Host Club)

“Fred, wait!” 

It’s funny, he thinks, how he perks at a name that’s not his own because he’s called it maybe more than his own. Normally he goes along with the joke. Normally he finds it funny. He doesn’t know why, but today this sets him in a bad mood. 

When he turns to find a Hufflepuff in his year standing there, twisting her hands nervously, he knows what’s about to happen. He can’t offset the scowl on his face because of it. 

“Yes?” 

His tone isn’t necessarily harsh, but it isn’t warm either and the Hufflepuff —  _ what is her name? —  _ blinks at it with wide almond eyes. 

“Oh, well, you see… I was just wondering,” she starts, stumbling over her words, “if you maybe wanted to go to Hogsmeade together this weekend?”

Even though he knew it was coming, when the words are finally out there they settle in the air like a smoking charm, making it hard for him to breathe. He hates this part. He knows that Fred himself enjoys it, the way the girls — and some boys — in their year can’t tell them apart so they get to turn down dates for each other. Fred thinks it’s a giant laugh. 

This is one of the ways in which they’re different, if people would take the time to actually look at them. 

Fred is harder around the edges. A bit crueler. 

George notices the way the Hufflepuff’s heart is breaking as she waits for him to respond, and feels a crack in his own. He’s too soft for this. 

Fred has often said that himself. 

“Sorry,” George says as kindly as he possibly can. He’s still bitter, but he’s not cruel. Never cruel. “But I already have plans this weekend.”

“Oh.” The Hufflepuff visibly deflates. He knows the amount of courage it took for her to ask him, even if she thinks she’s asking Fred. He’s almost glad Fred isn’t here for this. He would have gotten a laugh out of the way her whole face sinks into a frown. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s — it’s alright. Maybe another time?”

George shrugs, but doesn’t respond further. Maybe it makes him a coward, but he doesn’t want to turn the girl down a second time. He doesn’t have it in him. 

Thankfully, she doesn’t press. Instead, she turns, walking back the way she came. 

George lets out a sigh of relief that it’s over. It’s met with a snort. 

When he whips his head around, it’s to find Harry standing there. Tie missing, hair thrown in a sloppy braid. 

“Well, this is awkward,” she says, leaning against the wall. “Don’t you ever get tired of people not being able to tell you two apart?”

“What are you talking about? I am Fred.”

She smiles. “No, you’re not. You’re George. I’ve been able to tell you guys apart since I was eleven.” 

He knows this, of course. She’s probably the only person in the world who can tell them apart. He often wonders why that is. His own mother has trouble. 

Harry has always known which one is which. 

She’s probably the only person Fred properly respects because of it. George adores her too, but in a far different way. A way that he’s not quite ready to admit to just yet. 

Still. 

He crosses the distance between them, putting on his best Fred face. It’s a mixture of arrogance and dismissal. He’s perfected it over the years, the same way Fred has practiced putting soft lines in his face whenever he pretends to be George. 

“You’re absolutely certain of that, Potter?” he asks, getting closer to her. She doesn’t back away. She never does. 

“Yes,” she says, confident. Sure of herself.  _ Merlin,  _ he loves this side of her. “Fred wouldn’t have turned down that Hufflepuff so kindly. But George? George definitely would have.”

“Hmm,” he hums. His face relaxes and his Fred mask falls off easily. He can never seem to wear it around her for too long. “How is it that you can tell us apart so easily?”

Why her?

Why a girl he’s known for a handful of years and no one else? 

What makes her want to tell them apart? To spot the ways that make them different and not the same?

“You’re so soft, George Weasley,” she says, her tone matching her words. “No one else may be able to see it, but I do.”

It would be so easy, he thinks. So very easy to tell her that he loves her then. 

He doesn’t. 

He can’t. 

Not just yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to comment!


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